


feathers, kisses, and the future

by orphan_account



Series: Amaguuji Week 2020 [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Amnesia, Caretaking, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Healthy Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Intimacy, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Memory Loss, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Prompt: Fantasy AU, WOW i am making this sound so chaotic, Wing Grooming, Wingfic, Wings, its literally just fluff i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 08:26:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24846766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: What do you say to that?How do you help a person who doesn’t even believe they are a person?
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Shinguji Korekiyo
Series: Amaguuji Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795822
Comments: 6
Kudos: 53





	feathers, kisses, and the future

**Author's Note:**

> HI SO  
> day 2 of amaguuji week by @servantc0re on instagram: fantasy au/childhood au
> 
> also some context: gods and supernatural stuff are normal in this au. taro is a weirdass angel type thing that fell from the sky with no memories of what he is, and it turns out no one else knows either. kiyo, the human who takes him in, decides to help him figure it out.  
> then they realise they r in love :)

If Korekiyo from a few years ago had gotten the chance to see himself in the present, he would have been shocked at how easy it was for him to adjust to waking up to a mouthful of grey feathers every morning.

Well, not exactly a mouthful, but enough to choke him up just a little before he made Rantaro shove himself into a more accommodating position, preferably one that didn’t involve gargantuan wings (that took up more space than they should have on their already too small bed) being draped over his face. It was part of most of their mornings, a constant push and pull and complaints about Kiyo’s hair or Rantaro’s feathers or one of them being too warm or one of them hogging the blanket, only for them to end up wrapped up in each other once again. 

This was not one of those mornings; the only feathers were a couple of loose ones on the emptier side of the bed.  
It wasn’t… uncommon, but Korekiyo knew that he had reason to worry. It was true that Rantaro had never been prone to sleeping in healthy doses, but if he was out of bed at 6 a.m. then something was definitely on his mind.

Their apartment was silent in the dull morning light, pale white sunlight and the shadows cast against the walls amplified the anxiety plaguing Korekiyo.  
He comes to rest against the doorway to his study, one of the more spacious rooms of their home, and he isn’t surprised to find Rantaro sitting at the oak desk, wings curled protectively around himself.

“Is it bothering you again?”

Rantaro doesn’t need to look up.  
“Yeah. Last night, too. I didn't want to wake you.”

“You can wake me up for anything, you know that.”

“Still.” There’s a hoarseness to his voice, and Korekiyo can tell he’s spent the better part of the last few hours or so crying. “I would’ve liked to say old habits die hard, but if it was a habit before this, then I don’t remember it.”

He steps forward, pressing a gentle hand against Rantaro’s shoulder.  
“Perhaps you don’t remember, but that doesn’t make you any less of a person. Your past doesn’t have to define you.”

“Maybe, but I don’t know… I don’t know how to let my present define me either. And if… If neither of them define me, what am I?

“Kiyo, what am I?”

He rests his chin on his scalp, loosely wrapping his arms around his neck. He traces the golden markings on his collarbone, to comfort Rantaro as much as it is to comfort himself. He feels lightheaded at his words, and as much as he wants to reassure him that he’s amazing, he can’t help but think of when they first met. Of Rantaro, broken and helpless and alone in the rain and cast down from the realm of the gods with no idea why.

What do you say to that?  
How do you help a person who doesn’t even believe they are a person?

“...You don’t need to say anything to that. I’m sorry, Kiyo.”

“Please stop apologizing. You must understand, I do not care what heavy things you ask me. I do not care how many times you wake me up at night, I do not care how far we have to go to understand who you are, I will be by your side until death takes me. If I forsake you, may the gods punish me as they see fit.”

“None of the gods are punishing you, Kiyo.”  
Rantaro’s eyes are as pained as he expected them to be, but his smile is genuine. Still.  
Still.

“What aren’t you saying?”

“...Sometimes I wonder if the gods did punish you by sending me down here. Sometimes I find the ancient manuscripts you were studying before we started trying to find my origins. The ones you left. The life you left. It breaks my heart, Kiyo.”

“You’re wrong.”  
His tone comes off as hostile, almost angry. But he knows Rantaro knows him better than that.  
“Even if you are a punishment, as you put it, you aren’t one for me.  
I could search the seas and the continents and stars, and I will never find anyone I cherish more deeply than you. There will never be anyone I cherish more deeply than you. Unravelling the mystery that you are is just another part of what loving you is, and I wouldn’t give it up for all the blessings in the world. I wouldn’t give it up, even if the gods threatened to torture me for all eternity.”

There's silence, but it isn’t uncomfortable. Rantaro leans his head back and intertwines their fingers.  
“You don’t have to say that.”

“I am not just saying it. It’s the truth.”  
And it is the truth.

Before Rantaro, Korekiyo didn’t know anything other than sister, sister, sister, he didn’t know anything beyond his studies, he didn’t know love.  
There was a time when he forbade the word entirely, because he never found anyone who used it correctly. And then they met. They met and the rest of the world fell away.  
“Kiyo?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Can you… Can you help me with my wings? Just a bit.”

He smiles, pressing a kiss against Rantaro’s cheek, long hair falling over onto his chest. “Of course I can.”  
His wings are large, over half as large as Korekiyo’s whole body, but they’re soft and beautiful and powerful and softly brushing through the downy feathers to keep them clean and untangled has become a favourite activity for both of them, especially during times like this, when one or both of them are in need of comfort from each other. 

Once Rantaro has pulled off one of the many baggy shirts he wears, Kiyo makes quick work of rubbing what little dirt has accumulated at the tips with a damp washcloth before moving on to spots closer to his back, pulling little bits of fluff away from the feathers before combing through them with his fingers.  
His fingers are gentle, purposefully so gentle, and he notes how it feels even more special and intimate without thick layers of bandages covering the distance from his fingertips to his upper arms.  
The angry red scars litter them are visible to anyone, but after Rantaro’s hours spent kissing each one and reassuring him over and over that they are beautiful, he can’t find it in himself to keep them covered like he once did.

Rantaro’s skin is something else altogether. Every part of his body has intricate golden markings that curl around his arms and legs and over his eyelids and down the center of his lips, and even now Kiyo can’t help but lean over and softly kiss the design trailing up over his spine. “Kiyo. That tickles, stop.”

“Stop what?”

“You torture me.”

“Frankly, I see it as the opposite.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Mhmm.” He presses another soft kiss against Rantaro’s neck, relishing in the blush that comes with it. “I won’t survive you. I love you so much, so deeply, and so wholly, that it terrifies me. It is like falling so deeply for the ocean that you drown yourself.”

He says it partially because it’s true and partially because he would do anything to see Rantaro’s face when flustered.  
He whines (or at least the closest he can come to a whine; Kiyo wishes he wasn’t so strict with himself, but it won’t help his fixation with not being immature or childish) before turning around to push his forehead against Korekiyo’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around his torso, before wrapping his wings around both of them.  
“You’re such a sap.”

“I can’t help it. You wouldn’t be able to, either, if you were with someone so beautiful.”

“But I am. I am with someone so beautiful. And…”

He looks away, chewing his lip. Korekiyo strokes comforting circles into his back, allowing him to take his time.

“And I love you. It’s hard, it’s hard not knowing anything about myself or why I’m here, but at the very least… I have you. I have a future with you, and that almost makes up for not having a past.”

“Oh, Rantaro…”  
His body is warm against Korekiyo’s, and their lips are warm against each other. 

“I would do anything for you, you know that?”

“I know. I know. I know, and I would do anything if it brought you joy. It borders on worship, Rantaro, and the gods may strike me down for it, but I do not care as long as I can die in your arms.”

“You’re not dying. We still have our future.”


End file.
